


Of Tans and Muscles

by pikachuch1mchar



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Brat Akira is best Akira dont at me, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, OH YEAH ALSO MISHIMA IS TRANS, Overexersizing, SO DONT AT ME FOR THAT EITHER, rated t for an occasional cuss, rejoice assholes, throws birdseed for my fellow Ryushima folks, u know when u overexersize and you get super loopy. Happy birthday mishmash :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikachuch1mchar/pseuds/pikachuch1mchar
Summary: Mishima has had a crush on Sakamoto for a while. It just so happens that one day his friend Kurusu slips him some gossip about that very boys type...





	Of Tans and Muscles

K: come oooooon, please tell me what kind of girl you like? 

K: everyone else did :(

Mishima sighed, hanging off his bed.

M: Kurusu, I dont want to tell you!

Hed been trying to convince Akira of this for the past half hour.

K: literally. everyone. else. you're the last one.

K: come on. can i sweeten the pot? 

K: oh i know! i'll tell you what everyone else said!

At that, Mishima stared a while. As much as he thought it was a breach of privacy for whoever confided this to Akira…. Mishima wondered if Sakamoto said anything.

K: liiiike how yusuke said that he likes quiet pretty types. which you know, kind of shallow, but hes an artist I guess

K: isnt it weird that he said "Like you" when he told me that? im not a girl, though i am pretty dashing~~

K: (and heres the part where youd say, kurusu, you arent quiet at all! and id say, in person i am!!)

He didnt pay attention to the buzz of those messages, instead fantasizing about what Sakamotos type could be. Mishima was… pretty sure the blonde was straight, but sue him for having a crush! If he knew his type though, maybe Mishima could have a small chance. Hed really do anything short of presenting as a girl again. Mishima sighed contentedly at the thought of being Sakamotos dream boy, being hugged securely like when Sakamoto would comfort him, have a small kiss pressed to his cheek--!! 

Mishima snapped himself out of it, quickly sitting up and shaking his head. No, Sakamoto was _not_ attainable to him. And even if he was, Mishima shouldn't get information from some gossip.

M: Kurusu, if you're telling me other people's type, how could I know you'd keep mine a secret?

K: and ryuji said he likes strong and tan- HEYYYY.

What.

K: HEEYYYYYY. I GAVE YOU INFO! YOU GOTTA TRADE BACK WITH ME!

Mishima stared at the fragment. Strong and tan. He really shouldnt stare, he had just decided he didnt want to know this way, but…. Strong and tan. Sakamotos type.

Akira kept yelling through text, bumping the conversation down, but Mishima continued to scroll up just to look at it. Strong and tan.

Mishima set his phone on its charger. That was enough phone time for tonight. It buzzed incessantly until he turned the notifications off, and he made the executive decision to take an early rest tonight. Maybe he could sleep off this forbidden knowledge. Sakamotos type… what would make Sakamoto like him…

\---

Mishima had another dream that night. He often had dreams of this type when falling asleep, thinking about his crush. The type of dream where rough hands cupped his waist gently, a smooth familiar voice bursting into laughter, closeness, warmth on his face-

And the sun waking him up. Mishima groaned, burying his face into his pillow. It did block out the light for a while, but it became hard to breathe. Damn it. He rolled over in defeat, groaning as the world came alive. 

First things first: it was breakfast time. He dragged his feet through the empty house down to the kitchen. He popped some generic frozen breakfast sandwich in the microwave and got to making his birds breakfast too. And once the screech beasts were fed and munching on their fruits and seed, Mishima got to head back to the microwave and enjoy his own food. Bland sausage, eggs, and bread with an overflavored, overprocessed slice of cheese melting all over it. Delicious and nutritious.

Mishima took his time chewing the food into mush as he wondered what to do today. He could work on the documentary script, or stock up on groceries, or…. Use that months grocery money to buy new computer parts. Maybe not that last one. Hmm…

Mishimas heart still buzzed with the comfort of the dream. Maybe he should go back to sleep? Or…

_Strong and tan._

He could try to make that dream a reality. He still didnt like how he got that information but… well, it would be something different to do. So what if going outside and exercising had another effect!

So, he washed his plate, got himself dressed in exercise clothes, and opened the door to the outside world!

He was immediately insecure. Sure Mishima was wearing weather appropriate clothes, but… he just flat out didnt like the contrast between his big legs and boney arms. But how else would he tan? Both VERY important concerns with a not-so-simple solution. Go find somewhere that wasnt crowded. In Tokyo. A tall order. But maybe, he could jog around until he found one…? Sure, it wouldnt take away the fact that people could see his weird body, but if he ran fast enough, no one could really see it! Yes! Perfect plan, Mishima!

So that's how he got himself running around the sidewalks of his home-city. The sun beat down on his head, sweat dripping down his forehead and air seeming to become thinner as his binder choked him out. Mishima wasnt going to lie, it was uncomfortable. But it meant it was working, right? Like that one saying, no pain no gains? Well, that was the only way he had learned to exercise anyways.

So he ran down blocks as fast as he could! Which, admittedly at times wasnt very fast. It was unfairly difficult to keep sprinting for more than a block. Needless to say he was very relieved when the park came into view and he could collapse under a tree, sweating like a sinner on Sunday. Breaths came in wheezes and burned, but that just meant it was working. He was making progress. All this pain, the bile burning bile flavor in the back of his throat; they were all signs of progress!!

Now. As tired as Mishima was, he ran all the way here to do more than just rest! With a sigh of determination, he dragged his limbs from the shady tree roots and into a clumsy pushup position. His arms needed work.

Yet, as always, a pushup always proved to be harder than it should be, as Mishima got stuck on the actual pushing-up part. He struggled, huffing and puffing and holding his breath- 

"Mishima? Hey!" 

A voice startled Mishima and he collapsed into the dirt. A cheery-as-normal Sakamoto jogged up to mr dirt man and offered a hand. "That was a spill man! What's gotcha out here?"

Mishima inwardly groaned and cursed his luck. Of course, while trying to look good _for_ Sakamoto, hed show up. Mishima stayed on the ground for a couple seconds before putting his hand on Sakamotos and pulling himself up. He felt a bit woozy standing up. "Uh, he-hey Sakamoto…"

Sakamoto held on to Mishimas hand for a beat longer than he should have, before remarking, "Dude, you've got ant bites all over your hand! How are you not itchin these?"

Mishima looked down, many red bumps on his fingers were there. Were there ants under that tree? Well, there must have been. He was really all bit up.

Sakamoto still held his hand, leading Mishima to a nearby bench. He had a little fanny pack fastened around his hip with a bottle of hand sanitizer. He squirted some out and rubbed the bites. Mishima was too spaced out to focus on much else but how gently Sakamoto handled the now stinging bites. Sometimes a callus would scrape across a bite, making Mishima wince. And sometimes, Sakamoto's thumb would grip a normal part of his hand and his breath would catch in a different way.

Sakamoto had to be finished sometime though, and his voice slipped itself into Mishimas woozy consciousness.

"-idnt know you worked out here too!"

"I dont" Mishima blurted out.

"Then what's brought ya out here and made you so sweaty?" Sakamoto chuckled back.

Mishima spaced out at Sakamoto for a few seconds.

" I, uh, I was working out here. But not normally" he ended up saying.

"No shit, you look like you messed up real bad on pacin." Sakamoto hook is head in mock-solemness. "Cant mess up in pacin dude."

It got a slight chuckle from Mishima.

"So you've started workin out then, why?" Sakamoto leaned on Mishima for another goof. "Do you just wanna be jacked like your best friend Ryuuuuuji?~"

Mishima suddenly felt like maybe, Sakamoto could _tell_ it was for him? No, probably not, his sluggish brain was just making him paranoid… nevertheless, his voice came out nervous and too fast. "I-I, um, its embarrassing."

"Oh? Beefin up for someone special then?" Sakamoto examined his friend, who was frozen in shock that Sakamoto got it so right. Sakamoto laughed at the silent confirmation. "Come on man, if any chick needs you to screw your body up for her to like ya, she isnt worth it."

Sakamoto said it good naturedly while patting Mishimas sweaty back. And Mishima was so woozy, a thought in his head slipped through his lips.

"S'not th-that simple…"

With that, Sakamoto got up, leaving Mishima to let his head lull forwards. The sun beat on his dark hair and he groaned. He felt weak and so so tired… everything hurt and to make matters worse, he was pretty sure Sakamoto knew by now. Why did he have to be so nervous about it? Now Mishima was just sweaty, really dizzy, his ears were ringing, he was now alone, tired, and his hands were cold-

His hands were cold? Mishima gripped something before focusing in on it. A soda? Then the creak of the bench he was on. Sakamoto came back? The blonde looked worried. He really must have found out, and was here to break the news he already knew. _You dont have a chance. I'm straight. You're being creepy._ Mishima knew this was a stupid, hopeless, dishonest, worthless thing to do! Sakamoto was opening his mouth to say that right now; Mishima would bet on it. He had to get in first with all he could muster. A too soft, too meek utterance of "I'm sorry."

"Y- dude, what?" Sakamoto was looking at him with confusion plastered all over his face.

"I sa-said I-I'm sorry."

Sakamoto paused, expression turning to concern. Mishima wondered if it was because he guessed right.

"You're gettin seriously loopy man… you really need to drink that." Sakamoto tapped Mishimas soda can, making a satisfying thunk under his finger.

"Its o-ok Sakamoto… y-you dont ha-have to bre-break it t-to me easy…" Mishima felt an overwhelming wave of melancholy as Sakamotos impossibleness truly dawned on him. With his brain all sluggish, some sort of dam must have broke. A circuit in his brain disconnected. Because without even needing to, Mishima could feel his breath hitching and the beginnings of hot tears in his eyes.

"Mish…" Sakamoto gently removed Mishimas soda and opened it before he put the can back in between trembling hands. "One sip. Then… can you tell me what's goin on buddy?"

Mishima hated how soft Sakamotos tone was. He knew, didnt he? Sakamoto didnt have to be kind anymore…

Begrudgingly, Mishima took a sip. "I… I know y-you know Saka-kamot-to… I… just ple-please, I-I swear I wo-wont do a-anything cree-creepy, I-I kn-know this is stupid a-and wro-wrong but- let me- let me expla-explain-"

Mishima sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. When did he start shaking? He grabbed his phone and made a weak attempt to dry it on the very sweat drenched clothes it had been enveloped with. He unlocked it and put the incriminating messages up to Sakamotos face.

"Kurusu… wa-wanted to kn-know my t-type. A-and he tried to bri-br-bribe me with you guys' ty-types… a-and Sakamoto?" Mishimas voice started to break. Everything was short circuiting in his brain, nothing made sense, his ears rang loud and his head felt heavier than what he was about to say. "I… to b-be honest I- I- I-! I WANTED TO BE YOUR TYPE!"

The yelling was unintentional. Mishima was mortified, and even more so when the yell devolved into him uncontrollably sobbing. He couldnt bring himself to look at Sakamotos reaction. Mishima was far too interested in how hard he could dig his fingernails into his shitty, knobby knees.

"Mishima…."

"I… ca-can u-understand if-if you d-dont want to b-be aro-round me…"

"Mish…"

"It was cree-creepy, a-a-and wrong, an-and…"

"Yuuki?"

Mishima was shocked silent sans the breaths he was squeezing through, as choppy as stormy water. Did Sakamoto just…?

"I… gotta tell you somethin." Sakamoto scratched the side of his neck, looking away from Mishima nervously. Nervousness was certainly rare to see on the blonde. "I may… or may not have asked Akira to do that…"

Even more shock from Mishima. Did this mean…?

"I just didnt think hed spill our stuff and that youd… damn Yuuki, I'm sorry." Sakamotos voice was drenched in sincere guilt.

"But… wa-wait… why…?" Mishimas voice was hoarse and still shakey.

"I… damn, this is really somethin a girl says huh? Uh, I mean, uh, one sec-" Sakamoto turned away, took a deep breath, and turned back to Mishima, looking the boy right in the eyes. "I li-like you t-too!"

Mishima was in so much disbelief. Sakamoto stuttered. Sakamoto was nervous. Sakamoto… confessed to him?

"I-is this a pra-prank?"

"No, Yuuki, I… I mean it man. I really like you. I, uh, love ya even." Sakamoto was beet red. If Mishima wasnt already flushed from his overworking and the heat, hed be just as red from Sakamotos confession as the man himself. 

They sat in silence for a bit, realizing what this all meant. But after a few moments passed, Mishima started to wilt in the heat again.

Sakamotos voice was soft when he spoke again. "Hey, let's go to my place, get you some cool air… it can uh, be like our first date. Pop in a uh movie or. Yknow. Something."

A beat of silence.

"...can… I call you R-Ryuji?" Mishima tested.

"Yeah, of course- oh shit, I didnt ask if you were cool with me callin you Yuuki!"

Mishima chuckled tiredly but truly. "I wo-would… really, really like that Ryuji. Uh, both my name and the d-da-date."

Ryuji smiled. Not the bright hyperactive one that held the intensity of the sun, or the determined one that showed the sparks of a lightening bolt, but the nurturing one that held all the warmth of a hearth in a home.

When Mishima was ready, Ryuji led the way back to his apartment. And luckily for the smaller, wheezing, overexersized teen, it was only a couple blocks away.

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who has overworked himself many times before I can safely say that withing minutes of getting into Ryujis apartment Mishima took a nap. And during that nap Ryuji probably texted Akira to scold him about not only spilling Ryujis type, but not spilling the 'shy bookish type he can protect' part too.


End file.
